ne."

Sir Loumor again a wild laughter outsent,
And the hard marble wall by that laughter was rent.

Then outspake the child in the cradle that lay,
No word had the child ever spoke till that day:

"It shows that no good is about to take place,
When my father he laughs in my dear mother's face."

With his foot he the cradle has spurned with such force
That out rolled the baby, a blood-besprent corse.

So matters passed on 'till of evening the fall,
To the evening repast the relations went all.

Sir Loumor her lord she placed at the board's head,
To the stools at the bottom her brothers she led.

To Sir Loumor she handed the stout ruddy wine,
To her brothers she only sweet milk will assign.

Sir Loumor pretended to drink deep and fast,
But in secret the wine down beneath him he cast.

Proud Signild now to the bed chamber wends,
And the bed she prepares for her dear-beloved friends.

The bed she outspreads on the hard rugged stone,
And that to prevent them from sleeping was done.

And under their sides she placed slily their knives,
Which well they might trust in defence of their lives.

She also has placed underneath their bed heads
Their actons of steel, and their keen naked blades.

'Twas late, late at night, and the lights were burnt low,
And away to their couches it lists them to go.

No sooner proud Signild had sunk to repose,
Than from her white side dread Sir Loumor arose.

To the hall, the dark hall, took Sir Loumor his way,
Proud Signild's seven brothers intending to slay.

To the side of the bed upon tip toe he drew,
And the seven bold brothers he traitorously slew.

In his fell hand uptakes he both faulchion and knife,
And each of the sleepers deprived he of life.

In a bowl he collects of the murdered the gore,
And that he brings in the proud Signild before.

In, in at the door-way Sir Loumor he sped,
From Signild's cheek faded the beautiful red.

"Sir Loumor, my lord, thy looks fill me with fright,
Say where hast thou been in the midst of the night?"

"I've been to the hall, if the truth I must tell,
I heard my two hunting hawks screech there, and yell."

"O why of thy hawks art thou talking, my lord?
May God in his mercy my dears brothers guard."

Sir Loumor produced of her brothers the gore,
And that by her foot he has placed on the floor.

"Now drink thou, proud Signild, my much beloved Dame,
This blood from the veins of thy brothers that came."

"With a terrible thirs